


The Room

by SherlockedCumbercookie



Category: Room - Emma Donoghue, Sherlock (TV), The Room 2015
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childbirth, Childhood Trauma, Confinement, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Forced Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapped Sherlock Holmes, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Non-Consensual Touching, PTSD Sherlock, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Teen Father, Teenlock, Triggers, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedCumbercookie/pseuds/SherlockedCumbercookie
Summary: Girl lives with her brother, Boy, and their Pa, Sherlock, in Room, the witch and Old Hope keep them prisoner. Girl and Boy think that Room is Real while the people, houses, cars, etc they see on TV are Not Real. When Pa breaks to them the truth about their past, Girl and Boy must be brave and find help before it's too late.Based on the 2015 film, Room, and the novel of the same name by Emma DonoghueYou do not need to have read the book or watched the film to understand and read. :)PLEASE HEED TAGSBeware that Sherlock is a teen father in this story. Approximately around 17 or 18 years old
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	1. Room

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this story! Please refrain from negative comments :)  
> This first chapter is from Girl's POV. The next will be from Sherlock's.  
> If it seems simple at first, it is because it is from a child's POV

This is Room. 

Room is very small. 

Room has white walls and white floor and white ceiling.

In one corner of Room is Bed, where Pa, Boy, and I sleep. In the other corner is Table and Chairs. Over by the far right wall is Fridge and right beside Fridge is Sink and Toilet. On the ceiling is Strip Light. Across from Bed is TV. On Floor beside Bed is Rug. Rug is warm and red. There is also Wardrobe, where Boy and I stay sometimes. 

Boy is awake with me. We are both excited. Today is our fifth birthday! On TV, the Not Real people have parties with balloons and cake. Maybe Pa will make us a cake like the Not Real people. “Let’s wake Pa,” I say to Boy and he agrees because we are so excited and can hardly wait. 

We got to Bed, where Pa is still sleeping. Pa has some new bruises on his neck and arms. Clumsy Pa. He always hurts himself. Pa’s leg dangles off the bed and Chains are wrapped around it. Chains snakes across the ground and is attached to Wall. Chains prevents Pa from running. Pa says Chains was a punishment for trying to run away. Because of Chains, Pa cannot run around Room like Boy and I can. 

“Pa! Pa!” Boy whispers loudly, jumping onto Bed and shaking Pa’s shoulders. I join in, whispering, “Pa! Pa! Wake up!” 

Pa turns over and blinks up at us with sleepy eyes. “You two are awake already?” he asks, smiling a little. 

“Yes Pa,” says Boy. 

“It’s our birthday today, Pa,” I add. 

Pa pulls us both for a cuddle and gives us kisses, which makes Boy squirm and me giggle. “Oh, it is? I think I forgot! How old are you turning today?” Pa asks. 

I know Pa is just teasing. He would never forget our birthday. “Pa, stop being so silly,” I tell him and he immediately looks serious. 

“We are turning five today, Pa,” says Boy. 

Pa slowly sits up, wincing slightly. “Five years old! That is a big age to turn! I can’t believe it! My Girl and Boy are already five years old! This calls for a celebration but first, we need to brush our teeth and eat breakfast, alright? We can have eggs for a special treat.” 

“Yay!” says Boy and I. We will have new shells to add to Eggsnake!  
While Pa gets dressed, Boy and I go to say hello to everyone in Room. 

“Hello Chairs!” Boy says. 

“Hello Table!” I add. 

“Hello TV!” 

“Hello Bed!” 

“Hello Sink!” 

“Hello Toilet!” 

“Hello Eggsnake!” 

“Hello Wardrobe!” 

I look at the door. “Hello Door!” 

“Hello Light!” Boy says, pointing up at the light. 

“Alright you two, it’s time to eat!” Pa says, setting down two bowls of cereal on Table. Boy and I hurry over. The cereal is Froot Loops and we smile because we know Pa saved it just for our birthday. Pa sits down across Table from us and I see that he doesn’t have a bowl. 

“Pa, why don’t you have any cereal?” Boy asks before I can. 

Pa smiles but his eyes don’t sparkle. “I’m not hungry, Boy. It’s alright. You can have the cereal.” He cups his jaw. Bad Tooth must be hurting. That must be why Pa doesn’t want to eat cereal. 

“Is Bad Tooth hurting again?” I ask, concerned. 

Pa taps his head with his finger. “Mind over matter, remember that, Girl?” 

“Mind over matter,” I repeat. “If we don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Pa always says that but sometimes, I wonder if it does matter because Pa’s Bad Tooth hurts him a lot and he doesn’t do anything about it. 

While Boy and I eat, Pa tells us what we are going to do today. “We are going to make a cake,” he says and Boy and I squeal with joy. 

“A cake? Like the one on TV?” Boy asks. 

“Yes, but for Real,” replies Pa. “So, hurry up with your breakfast and get dressed so that we can start baking right away.” Boy and I hurriedly finish our breakfast while Pa washes his face in the sink and puts on a new shirt. When he takes off his old one, Boy and I see a big bruise on his ribs. He must have fallen again. Why is Pa so clumsy?

Boy and I put our dishes in the sink and pick out our clothes: shirts with trousers. Pa can’t have any trousers because Chains won’t let him and the Witch and Old Hope won’t take Chains off. Oops. I’m not supposed to talk about the Witch and Old Hope. They come every night to see Pa, when Boy and I are tucked in Wardrobe. Pa tells us not to listen in but sometimes we do and the Witch and Old Hope sound scary. Pa says they are the reason we are in Room all the time. 

“Come!” says Pa, interrupting my thoughts and Boy and I hurry over. Pa is holding a pen. He makes us stand up against Wall by Fridge. “We need to see how much you’ve grown. I bet you are big, now that you are five years old,” Pa says. 

I step up to Wall and stand as straight and as tall as I can. Pa makes a mark just above my head. I step back and look up. I am a little bit taller than I was when I was four. I wonder if Boy is taller than me. Boy stands up next and he’s just a little taller than me. That makes me mad but Pa says I’ll catch up to him soon. 

“Alright, brush your teeth,” Pa says and hands us Toothbrush with Toothpaste on it. “I will start on the cake.” Pa begins to take out bowls and ingredients. He winces a little when he walks and looks down at Chains. I wish Old Hope would take Chains off. I don’t like that it hurts Pa. 

Boy and I brush our teeth. Pa says it’s important to have shiny white teeth and that we get all the gunk off. I spit into the sink and Boy spits too and we laugh because spitting is fun. I rinse off Toothbrush and put it away in its cup and then Boy and I hurry over to Pa. Pa has the cake batter in a big bowl. “Want to help?” Pa asks and he hands Boy and I each an egg. “Crack the egg when I say ‘crack!’, okay?” 

“Crack!” says Pa and Boy and I crack our eggs and watch as the eggs fall into the batter. Pa picks up a spoon and starts stirring it. “Doesn’t it smell good?” Pa asks, then he stops stirring and drops the spoon. He holds onto his wrist and winces. 

“Clumsy again, Pa?” Boy asks and Pa nods and laughs. 

“You can stir, Girl,” Pa says and hands me the spoon. 

I puff with pride and stir it. Boy is jealous, I can tell, but Pa lets him put in some sugar. 

After a few minutes, Pa says that the batter is stirred enough and he gives us the eggshells so we can go put them on Eggsnake. Eggsnake is so long! Almost as long as Room! Pa says soon it will be so long that it will wrap ten times around Room and we will have nowhere to sit or lie down. I think Pa is just teasing. It will take a very long time for Eggsnake to get that big. 

Eggsnake has a needle tongue that boy and I string the eggshells on. Boy takes the pen that Pa has and draws a smiley face on the new eggshells. Now Eggsnake has a face. Eggsnake looks up at us and I think he’s smiling because he’s got new eggshells. I would too, if I were Eggsnake. 

The cake is baking and Pa is on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Boy and I turn on TV to watch the Not Real people. When everyone is stil, it is quiet in Room. For some reason, the Quiet makes me shiver and I move closer to Boy. Sometimes, I wish that we were like the Not Real people on TV, with candy and toys and puppies. The Not Real world seems so much better than the Real world. It seems…. More happy.


	2. Cake

He lies on Bed, staring furtively up at the ceiling, his body entrapped in this small dimly lit room but his mind elsewhere. A mansion, with cozy, carpeted rooms and windows draped with heavy velvet curtains. Fires crackling in clean hearths and ancient stone walls adorned with finely woven tapestries and paintings that date back to the 1100s. He pictures a boy, barely even thirteen, storming into his room and throwing himself upon the bed. “I hate you… I hate you. I wish I could never see you again!” He sees a woman with blue eyes filled with diamond tears, weeping softly and pleading with the boy. “Please, Sherlock… we love you…” 

And he hears the boy’s hurtful words: “Go away. I hate you.” 

He didn’t mean it. 

He didn’t mean it at all.

But he can’t go back. 

He can’t go back to that moment and tell his mother how much he really loved him… how much he loves her and how much he will always love her. 

For the rest of his days, he will be haunted by the memory of his mother and the hurt written all over her face. 

“Pa!” 

Boy jumps on top of him, his knee striking very near his most tender parts. “Pa! Pa! Is the cake done?” Boy asks, his bright blue eyes-so much like his own-wide with excitement. 

For a moment, he just enjoys staring up at his son’s face and remembering the very moment he saw him. He had looked so small and innocent, naked and covered with blood, his little mouth opened in a perfect o. When he heard Boy cry for the very first time, it tore his heart in two. He reaches out and pulls Boy into his arms. “The cake’s not done sweetheart but it will be soon. Did you and Girl watch your favorite cartoons?” 

Boy snuggles against his pa, giggling softly. “Yes Pa. It’s over now. Girl is watching a silly Not Real Princess Story. I don’t like those movies. Can we play a game, Pa? I’m bored.” 

Sherlock laughs and tickles his stomach. “Bored? Alright then. I’m bored too.” He sits up and can’t help but wince when a throbbing pain shoots up his arse. Memories of the previous night come flooding back and he shakes his head, locking away the images deep in his mind palace. It’s not time to focus on that. He needs to focus on his son. “Perhaps we could draw some pictures.” 

Boy hops up happily and runs over to the box in the corner of the room, which contains old, torn newspapers, dried out markers, and pencils worn down nearly to the eraser. He pulls out a newspaper, every inch of spare paper covered with tiny sketching-even in-between the printed text. “I don’t think there’s any room on here..” Boy’s happy expression falls then almost a moment later, he brightens. “Hey! Pa, can we tear out some more pictures and put them on the wall?” 

“Sure,” Sherlock replies distractedly. He’s thinking about his mother and her tears. Stop! Now is not the time to think about that. That was in the past. His life as it was then is gone. This is his life. He has to be strong for Girl and Boy. He sits up and drags his chained leg behind him to the box in the corner. “Look, here’s a picture of a dog. We could put that one up,” he suggested, pulling a ragged newspaper from the box. 

“Yeah!” Boy exclaimed.

“Alright then, I’ll get the tape.” 

For a few minutes, Boy is distracted with tearing out pictures and taping them up on the wall. Girl, whose TV program is over, wanders over to join them. She settles herself on Sherlock’s lap and lays her head on his chest. “Pa, is cake done?” 

Sherlock jumps up, nearly unsettling his daughter. “It’s done!” He quickly pulls the cake out of the oven. It’s only slightly burnt at the edges but it smells heavenly. Boy and Girl run over and stand on tiptoes to see the cake. Boy’s face immediately falls. He pokes at the cake with one finger. 

“Pa, it hasn’t got the pretty color Frosting on it and Candle on it, like the Real People on TV,” he whines, lower lip quivering. 

Sherlock sighs, his heart aching, and tenderly caresses his son’s head. “We don’t have those things, Boy. You must be grateful. Cake will taste delicious without Frosting and Candles. Let’s get the plates out and cut Cake and eat it.” He limps to the cupboards and retrieves some cracked and stained plates. He hands them to Girl, who sets them gently on the table. 

Boy is still sulking. “Pa, you should ask for candles instead of dumb clothing or eggs,” he pouts. 

Sherlock bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. “Sorry. I have to ask for things that are easy for Him to get,” he replies softly, trying not to sound hurt. 

“But Old Hope gets anything by magic,” Girl piped up. 

Sherlock drew in a deep breath to calm himself and took out a fork to cut the cake. They were not allowed to have knives. “Come on, then, try the cake. I bet it’s delicious.” He places a slice on each of the children’s plates and sits down to watch as they dig into their treat. Boy and Girl exchange sad looks and sit down, poking at the cake with their forks. 

“Next week, when we’re six, you better ask for candles,” Boy says firmly. 

Sherlock suppresses a laugh. “You mean, next year, when you are six.” 

A half an hour later, half the cake is gone. 

“Bathtime,” Sherlock announces and turns on the water, watching it fill the cracked and peeling tub. Steam rises in the air and the children crowd close, enjoying the warmth emanating from the water. “Clothes off,” Sherlock says. He helps Girl lift her dress over her arms and head and then tosses the clothing into the laundry bin. Holding onto Girl’s arms, he carefully lowers her into the steaming water. “Make sure every bit of you gets wet,” he instructs, helping Boy into the bath next. Then, he carefully begins stripping himself down to his boxers and slips into the bath with his children. The heat of the water soothes his aching muscles and for once, he has mild relief where the chain chaffs his ankle. 

“Tell us a story, Pa,” Boy says eagerly. 

“Yes please!” Girl chims in. “Mermaids! Please pa! A mermaid story!” 

Sherlock scoops up some water with his hands and dumps it on Girl’s head. “Alright then…” He began to weave a tale of a mermaid and his babies whose precious comb was stolen by an evil fisherman. The three must swim through miles of ocean to find their comb and return it to its rightful place in the mermaid city. “... And at last, the mermaid finds where the fisherman hid his comb. And so he swims home to the mermaid city.” With that, Sherlock dunked his head under the water. 

When he emerges, he sees Girl and Boy staring at him with worried expressions on their faces. Immediately realizing what is wrong, he says, “And of course, he brings Baby Girl and Baby Boy with him. He could never leave them behind.” 

“Good,” says Girl with great satisfaction. 

“Alright, bubble time.” Sherlock picks up the small bottle of shampoo and squirts a tiny pea-sized amount onto his palm. Gently, he rubs the soap into Girl’s dark curls and massages it into her scalp. “Rinse it off now while I work on Boy,” he says and turns his attention to Boy, who is busy using the soap bottle as a makeshift boat. “Got to be all clean for bedtime,” he says cheerfully and then, when both Boy and Girl are washed, he turns his attention to washing himself. 

When it is almost time for bed, Sherlock dresses Boy and Girl in their pjs and helps them arrange their pillows and blankets in the Wardrobe. Girl crawls in first and then Boy. Sherlock lays a threadbare blanket over the both of them. “Alright you two,” he whispers, gently running his hands through their tousled curls. “You must go to sleep. You must not come out of the wardrobe until I come to get you, okay?” 

“Yes Pa,” the two sleepy children reply, curling up against each other. 

Sherlock managed a small smile at the precious sight and pressed light kisses to their rosy cheeks. Quietly, he shut the wardrobe door and limped over to the bed, where he took a seat and waited, in utter darkness, for hell to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think!


End file.
